


shield/hand/heart/sword

by Serie11



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, During Canon, Friendship, Gen, Loyalty, Magic, POV Prompto Argentum, Pre-Canon, Talking, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26318629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serie11/pseuds/Serie11
Summary: “We’re getting off topic,” Noct says. “The point is, you’re nineteen, that means something to me, and if you’re going to stick around, then I want to give you something.” He pulls a box from the armiger and presses it into Prompto's hands.It’s fancy – enough that Prompto feels like he needs to go and wash his hands or something before taking it. Noct insists, and he ends up holding the black box, which is embossed with what Prompto isreallyhoping isn’t real gold. The Lucis Caelum crest decorates the top, and shines when Prompto tilts it in the light.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia
Comments: 12
Kudos: 118
Collections: Press Start VI





	shield/hand/heart/sword

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catsinouterspace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsinouterspace/gifts).



Prompto rearranges the objects on top of his coffee table for the third time. Games on the left side, energy drinks at the ready on the right? No, they’ll get in the way of seeing the TV if Noct wants to lie down, he’s an idiot, energy drinks go _under_ the table where they won’t get stepped on nor will they get in the way, but are still within easy reach. Good. Great. Should he put the snacks down there too? They’re on the kitchen bench currently, but there’s way more food there than even the two of can put away, so they should choose the ones they want to eat and then bring them down here. Yep, that’s a good idea.

A car alarm goes off, and Prompto pulls his window shades back a little to try and see if it’s because the giant truck that Gladio has taken to driving around has clipped one of the other cars on the tiny street outside his apartment yet again. There’s no gleaming black truck that he can see – and the car alarm actually sounds like it’s coming from the other side of his building. He sighs and lets the blinds drop.

He’s probably overthinking things, but it’s been nearly a month since he last saw Noct in person, rather than in some article online or on the TV. They text each other pretty much every day, and Prompto knows from Noct’s complaints that he would rather be hanging out with Prompto than attending the ‘horrifically boring’ budget meetings that have kept him in the Citadel over the past few weeks. Still, there’s a difference between texting Noct and seeing him.

He rearranges the snacks, the coffee table again, and his movie selection, before there’s a knock at the door. He nearly runs over, patting his hair down for some reason. It does whatever it wants, anyway – he really should just learn to live with it.

“Hey!” he says, putting on his best smile for the two people who have arrived. Noct looks harried, but Prompto entertains the thought that his expression lightens when they make eye contact. Ignis is tapping away on his phone, probably organising something important and fancy.

“Hi Prompto,” Noct says. He shoots a look at his advisor out of the corner of his eye. “I’m good now, Iggy.”

Ignis looks up from his phone to pin Prompto with a stare. Even after knowing the guy for a few years now, Prompto isn’t quite sure what his deal is. Well, besides obsessing over every facet of Noct’s life.

“I trust that the two of you will stay in Prompto’s apartment,” Ignis warns.

“Yeah, yeah,” Noct says. “We’re not going anywhere, I promise.”

“Very well,” Ignis says. “I leave him in your hands.”

With a final look that promises untold horrors should even a scratch happen upon Noct’s person, Ignis leaves. Prompto closes the door as Noct wanders inside, stretching his arms above his head.

“Holy shit, you would not believe the week I’ve had,” Noct groans, diving face first into Prompto’s couch.

“I do watch the news sometimes,” Prompto tries to joke.

“Ugh,” Noct grumbles. “Let’s just not talk about it. Seriously, I want to chill out. _Not_ think about another stupid Council meeting.” He rolls over to sit up, expression serious. The effect is ruined somewhat by the fact that he still has his legs sprawled up and over the side of the couch arm. “Besides! It’s your birthday. We should be choosing what you want to do.”

“Heh,” Prompto says. “You know me. Easy to please.”

Noctis narrows his eyes at him, and jumps off the couch in one of those moves that vividly reminds Prompto that he can pull a sword out of thin air and definitely knows how to use it.

“I have made _way_ too many decisions lately,” Noct tells him. “You get to pick.”

Well, Prompto can’t really say no to that. “We should pick snacks first,” he decides, because that just makes sense. Noct follows him to the kitchen, where Prompto clatters around for a few seconds, getting some bowls out.

“Another year older, huh,” Noct says, leaning against the kitchen bench and watching as he moves around. “Can hardly believe it.”

“Your birthday is first, so I don’t think this is that big of a revelation,” Prompto says, rolling his eyes.

“True,” Noct agrees. He taps his fingers against the counter as Prompto empties one bag of chips into a bowl.

“Any preferences?”

“Looks like you’ve already got my favourites,” Noct says wryly. “Sure, the lime and pepper.”

Prompto opens those chips too. Noct is still staring at him, in the way that over the years Prompto has learned that he wants to talk about something.

“You right bud?”

“Hm,” Noct hums. “It’s good to see you.”

Prompto smiles at him. “Yeah. I know what you mean.” There are some days when Prompto can half convince himself that he’s dreamt the last few years – that the Crown Prince of Insomnia, would choose to hang out around him, local nobody? Crazy. And yet here Noct is, sitting in his kitchen, stealing a chip from the lime and pepper bowl.

“What?” Noct asks.

“Spit it out,” Prompto says. “Whatever you’re thinking about.”

Noct huffs. “You’re the only one besides Ignis and Gladio who can read me like that, you know.”

Prompto privately thinks that it might be more along the lines of, the three of them are the only ones that Noct _lets_ read him. He’s seen Noct’s paparazzi face, and that is not something to be fucked with.

“No getting around it,” Prompto pushes slightly.

Noct clears his throat. “I’m probably not supposed to ask you or something,” he admits. “But I’m going to anyway. I know you said that you wanted to think things over after high school, take a gap year, but you’ve mostly been working and I haven’t seen any university brochures or whatever lying around your place. Are you still thinking about it?”

Prompto seesaws on what to say. Admit that he can’t settle on a choice of course for university, or admit that he’s been thinking about a different career path altogether?

“Prom?”

Prompto sighs. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he says, because he has been. “Why? You managed to wrangle going to uni too?”

A flash of a smile passes over Noct’s face. “Nah,” he says. “I could do distance ed, but I’ve got enough on my plate with all the paperwork I have to do these days. Besides, I’m already learning what I need, ‘on the job’ kinda. If I took up a uni course it’d be for something completely unrelated to being king and I don’t think I really have the time for that now.”

“Oh,” Prompto says. “Sucks, dude.”

Noct shrugs a shoulder. “It’s fine – more work than I’m up for anyway. So what _have_ you been thinking about?”

“Um,” Prompto says, and falls silent.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want,” Noctis says. He threads his fingers together and then unthreads them, something Prompto knows he only does when he’s nervous. “I just… wanted to ask where we stand.”

“Huh?” Prompto asks. “What does that mean? You’re my best friend, dude. If I go to uni or not, that doesn’t change.” They _have_ been hanging out less lately, but that’s because Noct sleeps in, and then has all his official duties during the afternoon, while Prompto normally works nights. A thread of unease starts up in his gut. They are still best friends, right? He didn’t just put that out there when Noct has completely reconsidered their relationship?

“Right, yeah,” Noct says, and he takes a breath. “I guess what I’m asking is… do you want to keep being my best friend? Are you going to stick around now that high school is over?”

“Noct,” Prompto says. “I’m still here, aren’t I? I know you’re busy a lot, but…” He struggles over his next few words before saying them. “You know I don’t really have any other friends, right? You, and Gladio and Iggy, are like, all the friends I have. I don’t want to lose any of you.” 

“What about the girl at the comic book store?” Noct presses. “You hang out there a lot.”

“Yeah, Georgia and I get along, but she works there. Would be kinda weird to ask for more of her time.”

“I guess,” Noct agrees. “So you’re sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

Noct smiles, a small, shy smile that Prompto very rarely sees. His fingers itch for his camera to try and capture it. “Well, then I have a birthday present for you.”

“What?” Prompto asks, already shaking his head. “No way, I told you that I just wanted you to come over for the day and that would be more than enough.”

“You’re nineteen now,” Noct says, mock serious, lifting his chin and putting on what Prompto calls his ‘official voice.’ “Officially an adult, come of age, can vote, drink and get arrested.”

“I could vote, drink, and get arrested at eighteen,” Prompto feels like he has to point out.

Noct sighs, breaking character. “Yeah, but nineteen is when you’re actually grown up.”

“That’s like, ancient tradition,” Prompto reminds him. “Not all of us can trace their grandfathers back a hundred and thirteen times.”

“If we’re tracing grandfathers, then technically it’s only one hundred and twelve,” Noct snarks. “My dad doesn’t count. And yeah, it’s old Lucian tradition that you’re come of age when you’re nineteen, but I’m basically old Lucian tradition walking, so play along with it, okay?”

“Really,” Prompto says. “You, old Lucian tradition? No way.”

“Hey, remember when I turned nineteen there was a huge fuss kicked up,” Noct says, rolling his eyes.

“No shit,” Prompto huffs, because the celebrations went on for over two weeks, and he got Noct’s annoyed texts like, on the hour every hour. His best friend doesn’t exactly like being the centre of attention.

“Yeah, yeah. A lot of it was public, but there were a few things that weren’t public, too,” Noct continues. “Ancient tradition, and all that. A part of it was formally inducing Gladio and Iggy as my retinue.”

“Weren’t they that already?” Prompto asks. Ignis had certainly harassed them enough through their high school years.

“Kinda,” Noct says, making a so-so gesture with his hand. “They were picked for it, but I have to officially choose them, and I can only do that when I’m nineteen. To be picked, you have to also be nineteen, and agree to it.” Noct pauses. “Well, mostly. Cor was my grandfather’s Sword when he was like, fifteen, but that was a pretty exceptional circumstance. The point is, we had a fancy ceremony and I officially gave them the titles of Shield and Hand.”

“Hand?” Prompto asks. He’s heard Gladio tell everyone and their mother that he’s Noct’s Shield, but the way Noct had said _Hand_ had made it sound like another type of title that’s on par with it. 

“There are four positions,” Noct explains. “Four people who I can give access to my armiger at any one time. Of course, over the years those four positions have been labelled to hell and back, but I don’t have to give a title to someone if I just want to give them access to the armiger.”

“What’s the last one?”

Noct clears his throat and the tips of his ears go slightly pink. “Heart. It’s usually who you marry, but like I said, it doesn’t have to be. It can just be someone who holds the Crown’s confidence.”

Hand, Shield, Sword, Heart. Prompto lets himself think that it’s very romantic, and also that it doesn’t quite fit with the image of Noct that he has in his head.

“Anyway, we’re getting off topic,” Noct says. “The point is, you’re nineteen, that means something to me, and if you’re going to stick around, then I want to give you something.” He pulls a box from the armiger and presses it into his hands.

It’s fancy – enough that Prompto feels like he needs to go and wash his hands or something before taking it. Noct insists however, and he ends up holding the black box, which is embossed with what Prompto is _really_ hoping isn’t real gold. The Lucis Caelum crest decorates the top, and shines when Prompto tilts it in the light.

“Noct…”

“Open it,” Noct encourages.

Prompto fumbles with it for a second. When he does manage to open it, his mouth drops open.

“Noct!” Prompto almost yells. “What is this?”

“Your birthday present,” Noct repeats, smiling again.

It’s a bracelet – or more like a cuff, really. It’s all done in black and silver, and probably is worth more than Prompto’s apartment. Prompto makes a squeaking sort of sound when he sees the Lucis Caelum crest etched into one of the bangles.

“It’s behemoth treated black leather and platinum with silver detailing,” Noct explains, as if this is a totally normal thing to give someone. “Basically indestructible. So you don’t have to worry about it getting wet or anything like that, you’d really have to do a number to it before it got scratched up or damaged.”

“Noct. Bro. Dude.”

Noct fiddles with the sleeve of his jacket. “Let me do this for you, okay? You’re nineteen, and…” He goes properly red. “Mine. You don’t have any official place, so I’m trying to give you one.”

Prompto jerks his head up to look at him. “What?”

“My favour,” Noct explains. “And a place in my retinue.”

Prompto stares at him.

Noct swallows. “I want you around, Prompto. And no one gets to say who I give access to my armiger to, except me. And if you’re on my retinue, no one can kick you out. You’d always have a place by my side, just like Gladio and Ignis.”

Prompto holds the weight of Noct’s affection in his hands and feels inordinately humbled by it. “Are… are you sure?”

Noct nods. “Yeah. I’m sure.” 

Prompto stares at the bracelet. “Does it… mean anything? Like, will I have to do anything else if I take it?”

“No,” Noctis says. “But my dad’ll probably insist on giving you some sort of official role so everyone knows where you stand in regards to everyone else. But you won’t have to do anything, besides y’know. Being my friend. This is just a sign that you’ll stand by me. No matter what.”

Prompto thought that one was already a given, but maybe it’s good to have this conversation to get it out there and make it all nice and fancy, with a bow on top and everything. And also maybe it’s good for the part of him that’s always waiting for Noct to drop him like a hot potato. Linking Prompto to his magic – that sounds kinda permanent. Like Noct seriously, actually, wants him around. Like, forever. Prompto really likes the sound of that. He doesn’t know what he’d do in a life that doesn’t have Noct in it in some way.

“Noct,” Prompto says, kind of choked up, and leans over to wrap his arm around Noct’s shoulders to tug him closer. Noct is slightly stiff, but he’s learned that Prompto won’t take his awkwardness as an excuse and he hugs him right back.

“Do you like it?” Noct mumbles. “I tried to think of what would look cool now and would age nice and suits your taste…”

“I _love_ it,” Prompto tells him fervently. Honestly, he probably would have said that if Noct gave him a bright yellow bee suit to wear every day for the rest of his life. Noct _wants him around._ This bracelet is physical proof of that fact. Prompto is never going to let it out of his sight.

“Good,” Noct says. “So, uh. Snack time?”

Prompto thinks of the Crownsguard enlistment papers, hiding in one of his desk drawers. “Okay, so uh, before we sit down there’s something I did want to tell you…”

* * *

The little plastic card in his hand should feel more important than it does.

“It just looks like my driver’s licence,” he tells Gladio.

“What did you expect?” Gladio asks, amused. “It’s just an ID.”

“Yeah, an ID to prove that I’m officially _in the Crownsguard!_ ” Prompto says. “It should… throw sparks, or something.”

Gladio levels an unimpressed look at him, and Prompto tries not to squeak. That wouldn’t fit very well with his _cool_ and _awesome_ Crownsguard status. Gladio slaps his shoulder.

“You’ve been through the wringer,” Gladio says good-naturedly. “Some of those training sessions the Marshal put you through… oof. You’re tougher than you look.”

Prompto brightens. “Aw, praise from the big guy himself!”

“I’ve seen you bleed, cry, cry while bleeding, bleed and cry while you were covered in that weird goop that one time…”

“Dude,” Prompto protests. “You promised to never bring that up again.”

“Gotta tease the new recruits,” Gladio tells him. “You did good, kid.”

Prompto really tries to not tear up at that, but Gladio sees it anyway. He thumps him a few times on the back, and Prompto wonders if he’ll have to call out sick on his first day because Gladio has broken his ribs or something equally important.

“Do you have one of these?” Prompto asks him.

“Yeah,” Gladio says. He pulls his wallet out of thin air, soft blue crystals forming around his hand to then fade into nothingness before they hit the ground. He flips it open to reveal his Crownsguard ID where Prompto is pretty sure the driver’s license normally goes. Gladio looks younger in the picture, and he doesn’t have the scar on his face.

“When was this taken?” Prompto asks him.

“A few years ago now,” Gladio says. “When I just passed my Crownsguard exams, just like you.” He peers at the photo. “I do look pretty fresh, don’t I?”

“You must have gotten your scar pretty soon after,” Prompto says. “I don’t ever remember seeing you without it.”

“Yeah, it was on one of my first proper guard rotations,” Gladio says, smiling fondly as if they’re discussing something other than what had to be a pretty serious injury. “Some dumbass at one of those fancy parties that Noct hates – probably thought I couldn’t handle myself.” He snorts. “Just cause I was younger, that didn’t mean I couldn’t protect him. I’ve been training for pretty much my whole life to be his Shield.”

Prompto is going to need more time than he currently has to properly formulate how to say how messed up that kinda is. “Did you ever not want to be his Shield?” he tries, wondering if he’ll get an answer. He and Gladio have never really been super close or anything – maybe that can change, now. He’d like that.

“Hell yeah,” Gladio says, rolling his eyes. “But I was a stupid kid, and Noct wasn’t exactly the epitome of sunshine and rainbows himself. We used to fight a lot.”

“Used to?” Prompto says, more to himself than anything.

“Pff, our blow ups now are nothing,” Gladio says, waving him off. “He can still be an asshole, but we get each other now. And I can be an asshole too, so it all evens out.” Gladio folds his wallet back up and it disappears, blue crystals once more forming and shattering and vanishing around his hands.

Prompto turns his royal favour over, feeling how the bracelet rubs against his skin slightly. Noct had been right when he’d said he didn’t have to worry about damaging it. He’d been through hell during training over these past few months, and he’s dug more mud than he can remember out of the different layers of leather, but it looks as shiny as it did when Noct handed it to him. He feels like he’s proven himself to it now, just a little. Like passing his Crownsguard exam shows somehow that Prompto is worthy enough to stand at Noct’s side.

“Noct told me, when he gave me this, that he can only give four people access to his armiger at any one time,” Prompto says.

“He’s stubborn,” Gladio allows. “And he gets to pick his retinue, even if some people aren’t exactly happy with his choices.”

Prompto winces slightly. Yeah, he’s had enough run ins with different people with that opinion over the last few months. A few Kingsglaive who were bitter they weren’t chosen, or that Prompto was so easily able to gain access to the royal magic. Some nobles who had cornered him and made their displeasure known in honey coated venom. Cor’s heavy gaze, always telling him to prove himself.

Gladio taps the necklace that’s around his throat. “The power comes with privilege, which is why you’re in the spotlight. Iggy and I have had our whole lives to get used to it and everyone is used to us – you’re a wildcard.” A wry smile plays over his mouth. “Don’t worry about what other people think. The Marshal wouldn’t have gone easy on you, not when it really matters.” Gladio raps the Crownsguard ID that Prompto is still holding out. “That’s a mark of his approval. Not something that he gives out lightly.”

 _Don’t worry about what other people think._ Yeah right. Though Gladio could be onto something about Cor’s approval. It was rare, but Prompto had gotten it, once or twice in those horrid training sessions that he cringes a little bit just thinking about. Passing Cor’s final test _does_ feel good, and it is probably another positive mark in Prompto’s favour.

“Cor is the king’s Sword, right?” Prompto asks. He’d never gotten around to asking the man himself, but Gladio should know.

Gladio looks at him for a second before answering. “Yeah. And my dad’s his Shield.”

Prompto clears his throat a little. “So there are two empty spots in his retinue?”

“As far as I know, they’re still filled,” Gladio says, crossing his arms. “His Hand left Insomnia ages ago – I don’t know where he ended up. His Heart lives out in Hammerhead. Hasn’t been back to the city in years.”

“And he didn’t cut them off?”

“Only one way to cut the connection once it’s made,” Gladio says. Prompto gulps. He doesn’t have to ask what that is. “And King Regis hasn’t needed another space in his retinue – not when he has the Kingsglaive.”

Prompto wonders if the king had found a way to create the Kingsglaive in order to not have to give those two places to someone else. He’s never heard mention of those other two people that are supposedly among the closest to the king, and if Noct hadn’t mentioned the four places in a king’s retinue, he wouldn’t have been able to guess they even existed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gladio tells him. “It’s just politics, mostly. It’s not our job to get tied up in all that. We’re here to protect Noct. It’s Ignis’s job as his Hand to keep track of all the political stuff. It’s my job as his Shield to protect him. It’s your job as his Sword to cut down his enemies, whoever they are.”

Prompto yelps. “S-Sword? Um…”

Gladio lifts an eyebrow at him. “Cor trained you. What else could you be?”

“Noct said that I didn’t have to take up a role,” Prompto squeaks. The thought of taking over Cor’s job is literally impossible for him to grasp. “That just because he has four positions in his retinue doesn’t mean anything besides what other people say of it.”

Gladio snorts. “We all have our roles to play. The Marshal will probably take you in for some more in-depth training when we get back from Altissia.” He taps Prompto’s ID again. “This is just the first step.”

Prompto stares at it some more. He’d been nervous when they’d taken his photo, and his grin has a kind of manic air to it. He’d kind of feeling a little manic himself right now, to be honest.

“Come on,” Gladio says. “We should go celebrate. The Crownsguard have the _best_ secret drinking places, let me tell you…”

Prompto lets himself be herded towards whatever Gladio deems appropriate for a celebration. Maybe he’ll talk it over with Noct – or Cor. As unapproachable as he seems, Prompto really has been through it in front of him over the course of his training, so there’s really nothing else he can do to embarrass himself in front of the older man. And something like this would probably even rate as pretty important on his radar.

Whatever happens, as long as he has the guys by his side, he’ll be fine. He can do whatever it takes for them. Including being Noct’s Sword, whatever that means.

Prompto sighs to himself, and casts about for a topic change to talk Gladio’s ear off to. He has a feeling that they might not get many chances to just hang out like this in the future – he’s going to have to make the most of the time that they do have together.

* * *

It’s still raining.

Prompto peeks out of the flap of the tent, but besides the vague blue glow of the haven, he can’t see much else. It’s only late afternoon, but with the downpour hampering their progress, when they’d come across the haven it’d been a pretty easy decision to call it a day.

Plus, something’s up with Noct. Prompto shoots him a glance, but he’s wrapped up in his sleeping bag already, and is completely out. Prompto doesn’t know if it’s some weird lingering effect of their fight with Titan and the blessing that the god had given Noct, or if it’s just the relentless rain making his old injuries play up; either way, he’s slower than normal, and far more grumpy. Not that Prompto blames him, like, at all. All of them have valid reasons to be off their game at the moment.

Gladio is asleep on the opposite side of the tent from Noct, and his soft snores fill the space easily. Ignis is carefully cleaning his daggers, pulling one after another from the armiger to polish and clean them up. They’ve been on the move almost constantly since leaving the Disc, and Prompto thinks that not being able to sit down and sort out inventory has been getting to Ignis. He’s always been fussy with their gear, but after… well, everything, he’s really turned it up. Not that Prompto blames him. He relies on Ignis’s precision, just like Gladio and Noct do.

“Is there any break in the clouds?” Ignis asks, voice low without being a whisper. Prompto shakes his head and doesn’t even bother lowering his voice. Nothing is going to wake Noct, and Gladio is almost as equally unmovable when he finally falls asleep.

“Nope.”

A lightning strike lights up the world outside and brightens even the inside of the tent. The thunder that follows is too loud and too soon for Prompto’s liking. It feels like they’re almost in the middle of the storm – he really needs to thank Gladio for this perfect, amazing tent, which is swaying in the wind but which doesn’t let any rain inside.

“Hopefully by tomorrow the worst of it will have passed,” Ignis says. He runs a cloth up and down the blade in his hands thoughtfully.

“It’s been like this for four days now,” Prompto feels like he has to point out.

“Indeed,” Ignis says. “It does seem a touch unnatural for this time of year.”

Prompto doesn’t even bother replying to that. There’s nothing natural about this storm.

“Nevertheless, a rest will do us some good. We have not had the chance to stop and catch our breaths since confronting the Archaean. If the weather does persist, then pausing now will do us good in the long run.”

Prompto nods. He should be asleep, really, except for the fact that he’s never slept well through storms, and that he’d told Gladio he would take watch for him. He’d fiddled with his camera for a while before putting it away to watch the storm outside.

“Do any of your guns need cleaning?” Ignis asks.

“Hm? Probably, but don’t worry about it. I can do it myself.”

“I would do Gladio’s greatswords or my lances, but the tent makes it impractical,” Ignis tells him. “I do know how to care for them, if that is your worry.”

Like he would ever doubt Ignis capable of anything if he said he could do it. “That’s not it,” Prompto protests. “You don’t need to do it for me. You already handle enough stuff around camp.”

Ignis pins him with a look. “Prompto. I am not weary enough to try and sleep, and I wish to do something productive. Cleaning my daggers again after I have already been quite thorough with them would be a waste of time.”

Prompto wonders when Ignis last did anything that he would consider a waste of time. “If you really want to,” he finally says, retrieving his guns from his section of the armiger to put them in the common area. Ignis nods once and pulls one out, dismantling it efficiently.

Prompto pulls his camera out again, mostly to have something to do. Despite what he’d told Gladio, there’s no way he’s going to tell if something is sneaking up on them in this downpour until they were literally knocking at the tent door. If he’s awake he can probably give the others a few seconds of distraction before anything bursts in, so that’s the priority right now.

He flicks over the shots that he got of Titan. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that they actually fought an _Astral,_ and that they won. Or at least, they didn’t lose. He stops on one photo of Noct just coming out of a warp and clashing with Titan’s hand. It doesn’t seem real – like it should be a screenshot of a movie or something. Not a photo that he took himself.

“Get any good shots of the fight?” Ignis asks casually.

“Some,” Prompto admits. There had been a few times when they’d gotten a breather for a minute, with Noct so high up in the air and the waves of Imperial troops in a lull. He’d taken the opportunity to get as many photos as possible. “It’s still kinda… wow. Like, we fought an Astral.”

“And received his blessing,” Ignis says. “I agree. That battle was one of the most stressful days of my life.”

“Ditto.” He watches Ignis for a few moments – while he doesn’t think he’s a slouch at keeping his stuff clean, there’s an efficiency of movement that Ignis lends to the actions that makes it seem graceful, somehow. “Hey, thanks for, heh. Giving me a Hand with that.”

“I’ve already said, it’s no trouble.”

“Hah. Was punning on the fact that you’re Noct’s Hand, is all.”

“Ah,” Ignis says. “I see.”

“I still think it’s all kinda weird,” Prompto admits. “You the Hand, Gladio the Shield, and all that.”

“And you the Heart?”

“Uhh.” He looks at Gladio. Nope, still snoring softly and completely unaware of the turn the conversation has taken. “Gladio said I was his Sword. Since I was training under Cor and all.”

“Perhaps,” Ignis concedes. “If all had gone according to plan, that may very well have been the path before you. However, things have changed.”

“No kidding.” Prompto puts his camera back in the armiger and brings his legs up to his chest so he can wrap his arms around them. “You really think so?”

A small smile graces Ignis’s mouth. “The past few weeks have been very difficult. There is a burden on all of our shoulders, but on Noct’s most of all. Even between us who have known each other for so long, tempers can still fester.” Ignis clicks the gun back together, looking it over with a critical eye before putting it back in the armiger. “You act as a buffer and you are excellent at defusing tension.”

“Comes from long practise,” Prompto says, trying to laugh it off.

“I know,” Ignis nods. “But you also bring a sense of levity that we are otherwise dearly missing. I’ll admit that Gladio and I can be rather serious, and Noct himself as well. You boost morale. And even if sometimes, I indicate otherwise… I do appreciate having you here. You are a tactical asset during battle, and Noctis tells you things that he would never tell Gladio or I. That is why I consider you to be… _our_ Heart. The ‘glue’ that holds us together, so to speak.”

Prompto almost feels like he can’t breathe. “Ha,” he manages. “Iggy. You don’t have to say that.”

“I do not say things I do not mean,” Ignis says primly. He summons another gun and begins to disassemble it.

Prompto stares at him. “I thought…” He trails off. He doesn’t know what he thought – maybe that Ignis just tolerated him. Put up for him for Noct’s sake, or something along those lines.

“Yes?”

“I don’t know. That you didn’t like me that much.”

Ignis frowns. “You do make some things difficult. But I hope that I’ve disabused of that notion. I do care about you, Prompto.”

Prompto has to change the subject before he actually starts crying. “Noct told me about the whole, Shield, Hand, thing, when he gave me access to the armiger. He said that the titles didn’t mean anything to the magic, that it was just people who gave meaning to them.”

“That is true,” Ignis agrees. “Within the magic of the Crystal, there is no true differentiation between how Gladio uses the magic and how I or you do. Still, the favour of the royal line has traditionally been placed with those who are the most trusted of the Crown. And those who are given that favour typically end up in trusted positions. Over time, the two became associated with each other.”

“So it really doesn’t matter?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ignis disagrees. “Gladio and I play very different roles for Noctis, as do you. Within a person’s life, there needs to be people who can offer support and guidance in diverse ways. By labelling ourselves, we are clear on what exactly we are offering.”

“But you would take a hit for Noct, and Gladio’s smart enough to give him advice,” Prompto argues.

“People are not one dimensional and rarely fit into the categories we give them,” Ignis admits. “But it provides order, and familiarity. Both things we are dearly lacking at the moment.”

Prompto can’t really argue with that. He lays his head on his knees and sighs. Ignis raises an eyebrow.

“Just kinda bummed,” Prompto confesses. “That he never got a fourth person to share with.” Noct deserves people who care about him, and while Prompto loves his attention, he really does think that most people only see the prince that Noct wants them to. Never his true self.

Ignis looks at the curled-up form of their king, who hasn’t moved since collapsing there earlier in the day. “Perhaps,” he says, quieter than the rest of their conversation. “If anyone is his Sword, it is himself. Traditionally, the role of the Sword is to be the one to cut down the Crown’s enemies. Out here, he is proving plenty capable of doing that.” Ignis sighs. “He is strong enough to stand against any trials that he will face. Even if sometimes he doubts himself.”

Prompto looks at the soft tuft of hair that is poking out of the top of Noct’s sleeping bag. He thinks about what he knows of his friend, and what he’s seen over the past few weeks. As much as he wants to say that Noct is just another guy, he really isn’t. There’s something ethereal about his best friend, something about the way he walks and the way light bends around him. The events they’re wrapped up in are something out of a fairy tale – Astrals, magic, Empires clashing, a war, and four people who are facing it all down with only hope in their hearts and faith in their friends.

“We’ll get through it,” Prompto tells Ignis firmly. He can do this; be their Heart, the rock for them to brace themselves on. “We can face down anything together. One Astral down, an Empire to go, huh?”

Ignis nods, and Prompto sees his own resolve mirrored there. “Indeed.”

Prompto looks out the entrance of the tent again. The rain is still pouring down, without an end in sight. He really has no clue what the future holds for them. But for now, this is enough. A tent with his three friends, Gladio’s soft snores, the click as Ignis reassembles another gun. Noct, fast asleep and holding more power than Prompto can comprehend.

He fishes out his camera from the armiger again. He wants to have all his shots properly edited before he shows them to the others.


End file.
